TITLE: "His Dod Kalm"

BY: Ten

E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au



CATEGORY: V, A, M&S Torture, MSR

RATING: R for adult situations. Probably a milder R than

most... Sorry.

SUMMARY: Mulder's POV of Dod Kalm.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: "Dod Kalm" at a wild guess.

Mention of other eps like "End Game", but all old stuff

that all of us have probably seen before or know about.

There is a Scully companion vignette to this: "Her Dod

Kalm". (The Title Muse was not around today.) Scully's

POV is longer...perhaps because she didn't spend so much

of the ep throwing up and lapping George Burns...



ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be

archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer

stay intact.

FEEDBACK: Love it.

THANKS TO: The Usual Suspects - especially Kristina for

preventing me from making some major mistakes, and

Suzanne for opening up some perfect opportunities for

innuendo. What's a writer to do? Thanks to Ainon for

wading through MSR to edit for me (and get to the MT).



My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the

wonderful Skyfox, is at:

http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Keep/1351



DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and

Scully, the script for Dod Kalm & characters therein,

etc, belong to the original writers and Chris Carter, Ten

Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used

without permission. No copyright infringement is

intended, no profit will be gained.





The X-Files: "His Dod Kalm"

By Ten, February, posted March 1999





I hadn't expected her hair to be so red. That was my

first thought when Scully walked into my life. Fire on

the outside matched the inside. I sure found that out

quickly. Professional down to her toes. I often wonder

what colour she paints her toenails...



Early on when I wondered that, I kept cancelling it out

by reminding myself of a few home truths. /She's a spy.

She doesn't believe in UFOs. She's not going to help

you./ Then as I got to know and respect her, that opinion

gradually altered.



And so did my thoughts. But that part was her fault - she

had come into my room and dropped her robe, after all...

Okay, so she wanted me to check her alien probe mosquito

bites and I was a complete gentleman, but my imagination

is not so refined.



I keep picturing myself going to a lab to find her doing

something-or-other scientific, probably about to start

autopsying a corpse, (not that my mind worries with that

detail...) and she's in a labcoat and when she sees me

she takes it off like it's a silk robe and is just

standing there in her bra and panties - only this time

they're crotchless - and quickly makes me a lucky stiff.



But Scully is too important for me to ruin our

partnership by initiating a one night stand. She means

more to me than that. I've known that ever since she was

abducted. I may have some fantasies worthy of my

adolescence about her, but I do love Dana. So when I feel

like reaching out for her and screwing everything up

royally, literally, I think: /The quest, Mulder. Remember

the quest? Samantha. The truth. What you've given up so

much else for./



That's always a good slap in my drooling face.



And I doubt Scully would think of me in that way. Though

sometimes I see something in her eyes and think...nah, a

trick of the light... Especially in and after Alaska. I

felt so...disconnected...for a while after that. I think

I nearly freaked Scully out, not that I realised at the

time. About ten days after I was discharged from

Deadhorse and was at home, I finally felt like having

some sunflower seeds and Scully actually hugged me in

delight. She raced to get some, and even brought in some

junk food that she'd normally nag me to give up.



I wonder what I can offer her anyway. At the moment all

it could be is a one night stand, and she's not that sort

of girl. But once I find Sam - the real Sam, not some

green-blooded fake - then I can release that huge HOLD

button blinking over my personal life, and see if Scully

wants to be part of it.



But for now...we've got a missing ship to find and the

mystery of some ancient-looking sailors to solve.



I love the smell of an x-file in the morning...









"No, it's better with me laying on this

side...yeah...thanks...that's it...a bit more..."



I couldn't take it anymore -



/Oh God... Scully... Scully.../



I'd never moaned this much in my entire life...



"Scully, I'm gonna - I can't hold it..."



She was right there, staring into my eyes. "It's okay,

Mulder, I'm ready. Let it go."



I threw up into the proffered bucket. Scully held it

there, waiting patiently and worriedly to see if I was

finished. The bucket reeked of fish and that fact made me

gag. Finally my stomach seemed to settle for a few

minutes, and Scully took the bucket away to rinse out.



Faintly I heard Trondheim remark, "Wow, ten times in one

hour, Mulder. No wonder she sticks with you."



I would have strangled Trondheim if I'd had the strength

and if I knew how to operate a boat myself. I bet Scully

knew... "I'm paying you to steer the ship, not provide

comic relief," I managed, before sinking back down on my

side on the bunk. The bunk was moving. Everything was

moving. But we were out here because of me; because I

wanted to find out what happened to the SS Ardent and its

mysterious aging crew.



Put up or throw up.



/I have to keep this in. Men don't moan and whine./ I

told myself that women go through childbirth and

that's...what...it can be up to thirty hours of pain.

They survive. This couldn't be any worse...



But God, at least until the actual birth-proper, they're

not in CONTINUAL agony and misery. The pains come every

so often. Regulated. Rationed...



I nearly died when I was shot in the leg. That was

continual agony, though the shock and the drugs helped

dull that. I had a retrovirus a few months ago and nearly

died then too. I was very weak and queasy, but once again

I was too numb and shocky to feel the full force of it -

once I got out of the coma, that is.



But this time, there was no escape into shock or drugs.

The humiliating thing was that I 'only' had seasickness.

I couldn't understand it - I'd been out on boats before.

It usually didn't hit me like this.



But this bout just kept hitting me. I ended up very

intimate with the head and with the damn fluro-yellow

bucket that Scully kept near me.



Scully was there. She's always there for me. It was so

embarrassing that she had to keep emptying the bucket and

wipe my mouth and watch me be so sick. The only good

thing about it is that it's about the only time she

touches me. Her hand on the back of my neck - not heavy,

just a touch of fingers to assure me that she's there.

Occasionally a hand through my hair. When I was a kid, I

hated to be hovered over when I was ill, but then after

Sam disappeared my sicknesses were the only times that my

mother would really show her old level of affection

towards me. I hate to be hovered over as an adult in

hospital because usually the hoverer is a nurse or a

doctor come to make my life miserable on the way to

recovery.



I'm not comparing Scully to my mother though. It's

totally different when my partner touches me. She's the

one doctor I don't mind. Somehow her touch is not an

intrusion. Go figure. I just hoped I didn't throw up on

her at any stage.



She brought her med bag with her, which was great because

we quickly found out that it was carrying the only

seasickness meds on the ship. Well, I thought it was

great until I found out that my only choices were an

injection or a suppository. Wonderful. Then again, I

probably would have heaved a tablet up before it had a

chance to work.



I chose the injection. Until my partner saw fit to inform

me that I'd have to get it in the butt, in front of

everyone. I hesitated. Well, everyone was only Trondheim

and Halvorsen...and Scully... I guessed there wasn't much

choice. Either way I'd get it in the ass. Decided I might

as well pick the slightly more dignified one.



She added: "...for about twenty minutes afterwards you

feel like someone has used your butt for target practice

with flaming arrows."



/Hold it. HOLD IT. Forget the meds. I'd manage. Ancient

sailors did./



But everything reeked of fish - the bucket, the air, the

blanket. I hate fish now. I'll never eat them again.



A while later I reluctantly agreed to take something.

Scully talked me into it. I was too tired and miserable

to give my usual sparkling debate. We got my pants and

boxers down. I think I'd imagined this scenario a few

times. Too bad my stomach was letting the rest of my body

down, but then again, if it wasn't for my stomach, the

boxers bit wouldn't have been happening... Sigh.



Okay, I mooned her. She carefully prepared the meds. I

chose the shot. I could take it. Twenty minutes of

flaming arrows...well, how long did it take the ambulance

to reach me out on the docks? How long did it take for

the drugs to kick in? The only painkiller I had was shock

and the cold and Scully nearly squeezing the life out of

my hand and whispering 'don't leave me' over and over.



Now here I was, ass up, with only a queasy stomach

beneath me. I could hear Trondheim being crass. I would

have told him not to act like that in front of Scully,

but she'd have been angry at me for being overprotective,

and he was being crass mainly in Norwegian, so what could

I say? But a guy can just tell when another guy is being

crass about his girl. So there.



And if he was being crass about my ass, well, what did he

know? I thought it was pretty good considering that I'd

spent a lot of time in the hospital recently. I visited

the gym a lot afterwards to get toned again.



/Scully is massaging my butt and every hour at that damn

gym is worth it and...waitaminute. Scully. Her hands. On.

My. BUTT? Rubbing? What was IN this seasickness remedy,

or am I delirious?/



"To help the meds absorb."



/Oh. Ooooo indeed./



Scully helped me get my boxers and jeans back up. She

accidentally strayed into Area 51 along the way, if you

know what I mean, but I wasn't up to responding or

joking. Unfortunately.



Couldn't help wondering what Scully does think of my

butt. Did she like it? She wouldn't have to like *me* to

necessarily like *it*. Any hot fantasies about her sweet

curves cradling my butt were hastily kicked out by how

queasy I felt, plus right where she injected me there was

a heat building up that her massaging distracted me

from...



/Hell - they didn't use this many flaming arrows at TROY,

for Godsakes! My ass is BURNING and aching all the way

through and I just have to keep my trap shut because I

chose this, didn't I? Rome burned down faster than

this... Ouch ouch ouch... This is hell.



Scully is touching me. Perhaps it's not hell after all./



She then tried to make me drink more water - just

ensuring more work for herself as I brought it all back

up again. Once or twice I thought she went really pale

and I hoped that my illness wasn't making HER sick...



I tried not to sound like a little kid and ask "how much

further" too often.



I owe Scully a new thermometer - I accidentally barfed

hers into the bucket a few hours later. Somehow I don't

think she'll fish it out. I tried to whip it out of my

mouth, but too late... Well, at least I can make sure I

get an ear thermometer. That'd be much better. And it

couldn't be shoved anywhere else...



Ended up sleeping for a bit, but this med didn't seem to

have done the job. /I'll sue 'em. If I ever survive./

Fact: after you empty your stomach, there's nothing left

to bring up but saliva and such, and it actually hurts

more and feels worse as you're heaving. If only there was

something in there to actually come up, rather than the

muscles working and working and probably straining

themselves for nothing.



The cubicle wasn't big enough for the toilet to be in,

let alone the toilet and me, let alone me, the toilet AND

Scully. But she kept squeezing in as far as she could so

that she could just be there for me or support me as I

heaved or pass something for me to wipe my mouth with or

she would stroke the back of my neck. I really loved the

feel of that. I've missed her touching me.









I spent more time in that damn head than I have in my own

bedroom.



"Feeling any better?" Scully asked as I emerged.



"Ohhhhhh, you're lucky you inherited your father's

legs..."



"What?" She gave me a glazed grin.



/Whoops, she thought I meant her legs were ugly. I have

to rectify that quick or she'll never wear skirts again.

And I like her skirts very much. Well, the shorter ones.

Okay, I don't like the skirts half as much as the legs./



"Sea legs."



She gave a relieved and embarrassed chuckle. /Hmmm, do my

opinions of her appearance mean something to her? Very

interesting./



I finally pulled myself together in time for us to reach

and locate the Ardent...by running into it. Plus two

hours later than told. /My stomach and I will get

revenge, Trondheim. Hopefully all over your nice deck. I

bet you went round in circles for a while just to gaze at

Scully and have some fun at my expense./



I wanted to thank her for taking care of me, but I felt

so embarrassed at what she had to do for me... I took a

deep breath. "Scully, I...um...I owe you...for a new

thermometer," I blurted out. /Damn damn damn.../



We boarded the Ardent and were stranded there when

Trondheim's boat was hijacked, but I had my 'sea legs'

and a fascinating mystery to solve. I was standing on

possible proof of a military experiment using salvaged

UFO technology. Crewmen's bodies were corroding like the

ship was. I could see Scully's fascination too and her

determination to apply her science. I could watch her

like that all day. Turns me on almost as much as that

glimpse of her in her underwear.



Halvorsen was killed, poor kid. I went up on deck to see

if Trondheim wanted a hand with his burial at sea, only

to find Trondheim was being attacked by someone he

actually knew, Olafssen. Strange to see someone young and

strong on this ghost ship. Olafssen was a pirate whaler

the crew had rescued before everything went to hell, and

he was not at all forthcoming about himself or his beauty

secrets for wrinkle-free skin. Or why his friends had

left him when they stole Trondheim's boat...



Captain Barclay died soon after we found him. How were we

to know that we had handed him his death in a glass of

water from the desalinization tanks? Part of me stared

down at his ancient looking face and thought that it was

probably best that he had died instead of having to live

on like that.



It never occurred to me that I'd outshoot him by a

country mile.



I took first watch that night, in case there were any of

Olafssen's friends lurking. I didn't fall asleep, despite

being tired. Scully had tried to take the first watch,

but I'd insisted. Hell, I'd been lying down for the best

part of twelve hours beforehand - she hadn't. And I was

making sure that I was drinking plenty as Scully had been

going on that I'd better not get dehydrated.



So how did I miss the fact that my skin was changing as I

sat there? Couldn't I feel the sags and lines spreading

across my face?



My watch was up. I went to wake Scully. I stood over the

toss of red hair that was practically all that was

visible of her head, and smiled. I couldn't resist

touching it gently as I spoke to her.



"I only just fell asleep," she murmured.



I grinned. Scully's ability to fall asleep anywhere is

legendary. A wave of affection hit me, making me feel

embarrassed. "You want a few more minutes?"



Naturally, she refused. Professional down to her toes.

She sat up. And raised her wrinkled face to mine.



Oh God, what had I gotten her into? After she'd survived

the coma and Pfaster and everything, what had I exposed

her to?



xXx



Scully and I argued theories and courses of action, and 

Trondheim just had to look back and forth like a 

spectator at a tennis match. Poor guy - lost his first 

mate, his ship and his youth all in a few hours.



I'd gotten us all into this - there had to be a way out, 

and I had to find it. I did, by following the one pipe on

the ship that wasn't corroding away - and it led to the 

sewage processing hold. Ironic that the recycled sewage

water was the only safe stuff to drink. I floated my 

theory to Scully. "Something must have gotten into the 

desal tanks - all the ship's portable water is stored 

there. But the water in the sewage system is recycled 

again and again - it doesn't come from the sea!"



Secret gained, Scully and I returned to the mess hall to 

find that Olafssen had 'escaped'. Oh please. Really, 

Trondheim? And managed to make such neat cuts in my boy 

scout knots all by himself?



We fought. I quickly resolved things by pulling my gun. 

My stomach really wanted me to shoot him. Scully jumped 

in and reminded us that time was wasting. Ha. Time was 

vanishing. She set up a temporary lab and went to work. 

Scully likes to know me intimately - she's always wanting

urine and blood samples. Hey, you can never be too 

careful with the guys you hang around with...



So I had a sore arm as well as a sore butt.



According to Scully, our blood was chock full of salt. 

Well, near enough. After eighteen hours of drinking the 

safe water, Scully and Trondheim didn't seem to be any 

worse. That was a relief. But I didn't have to look in a 

mirror to know that the water wasn't turning into wine 

for me.



I could see it in their eyes - when they would look at me.



And I could feel it myself, in how slow my body became, 

how much my hands got worse, how I was shaking 

uncontrollably, how my skin lay in folds like rings of a 

tree trunk as I ran my shaking fingers over them. How I 

couldn't hear half as well as I could yesterday.



Scully would look at me, but only in quick little bursts,

then bury herself back in the captain's log or her test 

tubes or something. She'd talk to me, but it was like she

was trying to keep the image of me away from her. And

she wasn't touching me at all.



I was thirty-four years old. Inside. The outside of a 

heat-dried mummy would look better than me. Scully wanted

another urine sample and I managed to deliver the goods -

the sound of Trondheim filling a glass of water from

the portable container as I exited was nearly enough to 

drive me to give much more... - and I walked back in from

the head to give it to her...and I found that I couldn't 

walk properly anymore. I was SHUFFLING.



I was an old man.



The day before, I had been young. And I never really 

walked; I strode. With my long legs, it was inevitable. I

knew that women in the bureau used to notice when I 

walked down the hallways. A few men too. I always used to

wonder if my fly was open or whether it was the enigma of

Spooky Mulder. A few weeks after Scully first became my 

partner, she said that some of the women in the ladies 

had told her how jealous they were that they didn't get

to work with the guy with the sexy stride and sexy butt.



I laughed in case she was making a joke. She certainly 

seemed amused. I gave her my best 'do you believe in 

extraterrestrials' look and asked: "And do you believe 

that?"



She grinned. "I wouldn't know, Mulder. We always walk 

side by side - how am I supposed to conduct a decent 

study?"



So from then on I made a point of pacing in front of her 

in the office, turning a lot as I made my point. She 

never complained. And why do you think I was so eager to 

get toned again after the retrovirus?



The retrovirus had sucked away a lot of my weight and 

personality and so on for a while, but most of its 

damage had been on the inside, not the outside. Now 

this...it was doing both!



And how I'd groaned and begged for relief from my misery 

on the voyage here...if only seasickness was all I had to

worry about now. Then again, seasickness seemed to have 

caused this. Typical me though. I'm always the one who 

would get the worst dose of the flu or chicken pox or 

retrovirus or gunshot or broken whatever.



I was very athletic. I used to run several miles each 

morning, but the walk to and from the head nearly knocked

me out. Now I was...this... It was so frustrating that I 

couldn't do anything. But I had to have faith in Scully.

It was up to her. She was the doctor. She had enough 

determination for three grown men.



Scully took my sample and went over to her little lab. I 

just sat at the table, shaking like the sad little old 

man I'd become. A minute later I heard raised voices. I 

turned my head. Scully and Trondheim were arguing

heatedly. My hearing was too lousy now for me to pick up 

much, but I knew what it was about.



The water. And the fact that it didn't seem to be helping

me.



I saw Scully's mouth set in a determined line, but her 

eyes were frightened and she turned to look at me. I 

hastily turned back around. Scully is a creature of logic,

but I knew there was no way that she would be accepting

Trondheim's very logical explanations for dumping me over

the side - or wherever else he'd put Olafssen.



/Dammit, Scully's facing a murderer on her own, and I 

can't DO anything!/



Trondheim disappeared. Scully came back to sit with me. I

tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't hear of it. 

She made it very clear that if I dared to give up, she 

would kill me. After all, as she explained, she'd

invested a lot of time and effort in me, especially with 

the retrovirus and all, and I was not to blow that by 

dying on her. Clear?



Crystal.



A salt crystal.



So I'd just have to be very, very subtle about it.





I TRIED to be subtle! She gave me my ration of water - 

well, more than my ration actually, but one look told me 

not to dare say anything. Trondheim wasn't around anyway 

to notice or complain. Then she settled down at the

table like it was the desk in our office and that the 

captain's log was her laptop, and she started to write. I

waited a few minutes, until the pen was flowing across 

the lines and I could see from her profile that she had 

that focused gaze I know so well, and I knew that nothing

short of a four-car-pile-up will distract her from her 

task. She loves writing reports. That's why our 

partnership works so well.



So I got up very, very quietly, and she didn't notice, 

and I crept/shuffled over to the portable container, 

trying not to spill any of the water, which was hard with

these damn hands that were out of my control, but I got 

there and carefully set about pouring the glassful back 

where it would do Scully the most good.



She caught me. Geez, her glare nearly finished off the 

job of shrivelling me up. I tried the puppy dog look. I 

was considering trying senility to see if I could get 

away with it.



Scully didn't care for my excuses or my self-sacrifice. 

She repoured the water into my glass and ordered me to 

drink it. I refused.



"You doubt that I'll find the cure?" she asked. "You 

don't have faith in me?"



Ouch - now that hurt. More and more these days, she was 

the only thing that I did have faith in.



But I still wanted her to drink that water, not me. I 

reminded her who the senior agent was - a more true term 

had never been coined.



I ended up drinking the damn water. Anything to stop that

look on her face, the upset 'you're giving up, Mulder, 

you're abandoning me' look.





I woke up from a nightmare to find that I was still in 

the nightmare, with someone who must be Scully's 

grandmother leaning over me and hushing my hysterics and 

stroking my hair. It WAS Scully and she was touching me. 

It was okay. She kept touching me.



When I woke up again, Scully was gone. There was no sign 

of Trondheim either. I felt a bit worried and wondered if

I should go looking for them. I knew I'd hardly make it 

down the hall. I sat down next to the captain's log to 

have a flick through the pages while I caught my breath 

and had a think.



Then Scully came in with some news. Trondheim had locked 

himself in the sewage hold. Backflushed the water for 

himself. Yadda yadda. We were up the creek without any 

water.



Wait - my little huntress had turned hunter-gatherer and 

brought back a jar of the most disgusting yet delicious 

looking water she could find that was safe in all the 

ship. 



"I looked everywhere...and this is all I could find."



She listed the ingredients. Boy, doesn't snowglobe water 

have a use-by-date? "It's not Evian, but -"



"You go ahead and drink it," I said firmly. This time I 

would not be swayed by the Scully-upset look.



"No, Mulder -"



"It's the only logical choice, Scully. You're a woman - 

your life expectancy is greater and your body retains 

more water in the fatty tissues." As logical as I was 

being, I bet she took that last one as an insult or gross

misjustice to womankind.



"That's more reason for you to drink it."



"You have a much greater chance of surviving until help 

comes."



She looked so sad and frustrated. "Don't do this, Mulder."



"Don't be so stubborn, Scully. You know I'm right."



Defeat crept into her voice. "Well, there isn't much 

liquid to make a difference anyway."



"There might be." I pushed the jar towards her.



"No."



/Dammit, Scully, this is really taking the 'do no harm' 

oath a bit far! And the 'must argue with partner 

regardless' oath. Drink the damn stuff already

- consider it a last request from your besssst friend -/



The ship decided for us. The outer hull finally corroded

through and the ship chose that moment to toss us around.

Me, Scully, and the water jar.



End of argument.





I would have won it. The argument, I mean, not the jar. I

had nothing to lose. I mean, what could Scully have done

- kill me? Torture me with that look?



Fourteen hours passed in relative silence, side by side 

in the mess hall. Still no sign of rescue. Trust me to 

pick a ship that had a habit of vanishing off radar.



If Dana's father was alive, I bet we would have been 

found within mere hours of being reported missing. He 

would have pulled in every contact or favour he'd earned 

in his career to search for her. I wondered if her

brothers were trying the same?



I wondered if my Dad has even been notified? He used to 

be in the State Department - would he even care enough 

about me to pull a few strings?



Dana left briefly to see if Trondheim would respond to 

reason now, but was not surprised to find that the 

stairway leading down to the sewage processing hold was 

submerged in water.



I lay back against the wall, huddled under a blanket, 

joking about wanting to take a cruise when I was older, 

and raging inside. This was a great cosmic trick on me. 

Or a great cosmic truth. I'd always thought - hoped -

that one day I'd find Sam and eventually have a normal 

life. Now all of a sudden I was trapped in the body of an

old man and dying and I was out of time and had been 

cheated.



/Where are the ghosts of Christmas past, present and 

future? Okay, I get the message, guys, now turn 

everything right again. I'll learn from this./



And what is a normal life anyway? With Scully, even a 

normal life would be special. And oh God, how I wanted 

that. Did I have any idea until just then just how much I

did want it?



/Scully, I'm so tired. I've fought and held on for as 

long as I can for you, but I don't know how much longer I

can, and I'm so scared.../



"It's not fair. It's not our time. It's too early. We 

still have work to do."



My partner stopped writing and put down the pen, and she 

told me quietly, "Mulder...after they found me, when the 

doctors, even my family had given up -" /I didn't, 

Scully. You know that, don't you? And from the look in her

eyes, she does./ "- I experienced something that I never 

told you about. Even now, it's hard to find the words. 

But there's one thing I'm certain of, as certain as I am 

of this life, we have nothing to fear when it's over."



I stared into her eyes and I was so relieved by what I 

saw there. She wasn't afraid. She'd experienced something

deeply comforting and was now passing it on to me. If 

there was another side, I hoped we'd see it together.



"I'm so tired..."



"You should sleep."



Her hand was gentle on my face. Scully gave me comfort, 

and permission to let go. I don't deserve her. She took 

my hand and I opened my eyes again. I wanted to tell her 

everything, but there was no time left. Here, at least.

As I closed my eyes for the last time, I thought I heard 

a sob.





Voices are babbling somewhere. I wish they'd stop.



Drifting, holding my secrets close, wondering where I 

will be washed up. Heaven? Hell?



How much of a sin is it to waste your life, even if it 

was a noble enough quest?



Huge faces loom over me occasionally, but I ignore them. 

I don't have the strength to face my demons. They're 

immortal - they should be able to wait just a bit longer 

for me...



But they're persistent buggers. Especially the one with 

the red hair. A Valkyrie?



I am old and I am nothing and I have wasted a perfectly 

good life. Just let me wallow in that for a bit longer, 

please.



"Hey," the red haired one says.



It's Scully, and she's got her face back... Good, this 

level of the afterlife allows a few perks. Excellent.



And this afterlife really looks like an ICU unit at a 

hospital. Now that's a cosmic joke and a half. This place

comforted Scully so much? Well, I guess she's been -



I'm restrained. Is this hell? Angel Scully releases the 

restraints and I touch her face and my hands aren't as 

old anymore.



It takes me a few minutes to comprehend that this is a 

real ICU unit and that I've still got time to waste.





Scully handled Skinner brilliantly. "Sir, my partner is 

in NO condition to discuss this case with you, but I will

have my full report to you within the next few days." 

Shorthand: like it or lump it, Buddy. To get to him,

you have to go through me.



She took me home. To her home. Put me in her bed... 

Unfortunately, she didn't join me. I tried to protest - 

about her putting herself out, not about her not joining 

me - but she handles me better than Skinner and I was

too tired to really push the issue.



I felt embarrassed that she had to look after me again, 

but at least this time I wasn't throwing up everywhere. I

 was young again, but too tired to take advantage of it.



I was alive. I had time. And I finally had one real Truth.

/What should I do with it? If I can just get past this 

exhaustion, I'll make the most of that time. Or should I?

What if she doesn't feel the same way?/ I kept turning 

that over and over.



Several days later I felt a lot better, though still 

undecided, and was sitting up in bed, reading. Scully 

came in. She handed me a sheaf of paper, then fled the 

bedroom. Her 'personal' report?



Her diary. She was letting me read her diary...



My God, she had a crush on me! I wanted to spring out of 

bed and go rushing out to her, but she wanted me to read 

it all through first, so I did.



------------------------------------------------------------

And as I sat there holding Mulder's hand, I came to a 

realisation. Something I had been fighting off for a 

while. This was not just a crush I had on Mulder. It was 

not just physical attraction. Once it had been, but

somewhere along the way it deepened and grew into much 

much more. Despite the sudden shock of his aging, I had 

felt the same way about my partner even though he looked 

and acted old - I'd been scared to touch him because

of my feelings... 



I loved him. There was an element of lust in there, yes, 

but that can be a part of grand love.



A love beyond friendship. Of the type I never thought I'd

find but always secretly hoped for. Mulder and I are 

friends and soulmates. There is the promise of the sort 

of bond you only seem to find in fairytales.

-------------------------------------------------------------



And now she was out there waiting for my answer. And I 

felt a hell of a lot better.



With fumbling fingers and a brain threatening to explode 

from shock, I made the last page of her diary into a 

paper aeroplane - a ship would have been more 

appropriate, but I didn't know how. On it I'd written:



-------------------------------------------------------------

I felt so angry on the ship that I was suddenly old and 

dying and had achieved nothing. I'd always accepted that 

my search for the truth would take its toll on my career 

and relationships...but I also always believed or hoped 

that somewhere just up ahead, almost within reach, would 

be the end of my quest and that I would be free to have a

normal life. That there would be time.



And suddenly there wasn't that time anymore. And worst of

all, I'd dragged you into it all. The one person I didn't

want my quest to ruin my relationship with... But I guess

it has already; all that you've been through.



Alaska gave me back my faith to keep looking, but the 

Ardent gave me faith of another kind. And you, Scully, 

what you've given me, what you mean to me -



There's something I'd like to achieve before I age 

another day, but I have to ask this first:



So, you'll still love me when I'm old and grey?

----------------------------------------------------



I sent the air mail and then ducked back into the 

bedroom. A minute later I peeked out. She was sitting on 

the sofa, smiling.



"I will. I did," she answered.



Turning off that big HOLD button that's always hovered 

over me, I went over to her on the sofa, and we began our

abnormally special normal life.



I told her I was in this for the long term. She said that

she was in the search for Sam for the long term too.



And I've learnt that a horny Scully has a wonderfully 

wicked sense of humour. A 'full moon'...



/She wants to see my butt! She wants to gaze on it...and 

oh wow, she's stroking...she's stroking the approximate 

place where she injected me...it doesn't hurt anymore. 

Not in the least...



...and now she's kissing my butt...sucking... Is *this* 

standard procedure? I hope it proves to be. On the other 

side of the world, in Area 51, I'm under full sail... 

Dreamland... Scully always takes care of me when I'm

sick - she's taking care of the healthy me just fine too.

So well that I may never recover.



God, Scully's legs are beautiful. And what they carry 

around isn't half bad either. And now they open up like 

the sides of a gate to let me in./





"No, it's better with me laying on this side...yeah...

thanks...that's it...a bit more..."



/I can't take it anymore -/



"Oh God... Scully... Scully..."



/I've never moaned this much in my entire life.../



"Scully, I'm gonna - I can't hold it..."



She was right there, staring into my eyes. "It's okay, 

Mulder... I'm ready... Let it go."



/But she hasn't...yet...well, I mean, she has... I made 

sure she did before we undertook this joint sail, but I 

thought she would again.../



I exploded. The next journey - the next trip would be all

about her.



And it was. Wow, I'd read about 'cascades', but never had

the pleasure of initiating one. If 'one' describes a 

cascade. I thought it was just a myth found in romance 

novels or porn videos. We were both stunned. And she was

very generous with her gratitude.



I seem to have perked up nicely too. Again and again. My 

body is making up for lost time.



She said she'd had a crush on me ever since we met. She 

proved it. She's got quite the grip.



No Catholic guilt evident here. Dana can't wait to try 

everything with me. Even when we finish and are lying or 

sitting there happy as anything, I can see her brain 

analysing nearby pieces of furniture, deciding where to 

try next and in what positions. And the likelihood of 

injury to all parties. She's more than made up for not 

touching me on the Ardent.



She wanted to do it on her chair at her desk. She wanted 

me to sit at it and pretend I was in the office, glasses 

on - she insisted on the glasses - working. Then she 

'interrupted' me. Looks like I'm not the only one with

fantasies. I'll see if she can bring home a labcoat one 

day.



The chair now squeaks alarmingly when sat on. While we 

were ruining its suspension, Scully let out some great 

squeaks herself that built up into squeals that built up 

to one hell of a scream. A neighbour thought she was

being abducted again.



That particular fear struck me in the middle of the night

when I woke up in her bed and found she wasn't there. The

light was on in the bathroom. I went in and nearly bumped

into her. She was naked.



"Where'd you get to?"



"I was just coming -"



I grabbed her and lifted her off her feet. "You will 

now..."



Sounds echo well off those tiles.



And later on the little minx thought she'd rock me by 

saying, "What do you think of me getting a waterbed?"



/Damn it, I'm going to have to rock all thoughts of that

idea out of her mind. And I will, as soon as I win this 

pillow fight. Ouch!/





THE END.